Merry Christmas, Spock
by Tavia
Summary: Kirk and McCoy try to get Spock into the Christmas spirit. Complete
1. The Logic in Christmas

Disclaimer: Star Trek is definitely not mine.  And it probably isn't quite in the spirit of Christmas to steal Paramount's characters but I'm doing it anyway.

I know it's a couple days after Christmas.  This would have been posted earlier, but nooo, FF just _had_ to die on me.  Oh well.  Hopefully you can still consider this the Christmas season until New Year's or so.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, SPOCK

Three days till Christmas, and the _Enterprise_ crew had been caught up in the spirit for a couple days already.  That evening in the rec room, while various crewmembers were arguing about the proper placement of garlands, McCoy came to a decision.  Far too long had gone by since he last teased Spock.  He'd have to do something about that, and he didn't care what sort of look Jim wanted to give him.

"So, Spock, after a couple days of exposure, what do you think of Christmas?" McCoy asked, and sipped his drink.

Spock considered for a moment, then answered, "I fail to see the logic in it."

McCoy choked on his eggnog, and Kirk had to pound him on the back.  When he finally stopped coughing and caught his breath, he gasped out, "Did he—he didn't just say—?"

"Yes," Kirk confirmed.  "He did."

McCoy shook his head.  "I don't know what I expected him to say but…that's all you can say, Spock?  You _fail_ to see the _logic_ in it?  In _Christmas_?"

Spock looked at him.  "I believe I just said that, Doctor.  Christmas appears to be a season to strew greenery around in places wholly inappropriate to the decor, listen to songs about snow, exchange useless and expensive trinkets, and eat far too much food."

Kirk and McCoy looked at each other.

"He's missing it," Kirk said.

"All this time spent around us, and we obviously haven't rubbed off on him at all," McCoy complained.

"Not when he's missing it so completely," Kirk agreed.

"I am not aware of having misplaced anything of significance."

McCoy moaned.  "And he doesn't even _know_ he's missing it!"

"What, precisely, am I 'missing?'" Spock asked.

"The Christmas Spirit!" they chorused.

Spock blinked.  "I was not aware either of you substantiated the existence of specters."

"Not that kind of spirit," McCoy snapped.  "It's…well, it's…_you_ explain it to him, Jim."

"It…"  Kirk stopped.  "Funny, I've never had to _explain_ the Christmas spirit to anyone before.  It's…the gaiety, the general good feeling.  The generosity, the traditions…am I getting through here?"

"I think we're going to have to show him, Jim," McCoy decided.

"You think we could?" Kirk asked doubtfully.  "I mean, get _Spock_ into the spirit?"

"I intend to try.  It could be an interesting challenge.  You game, Spock?"

Spock was mystified.  "Am I what?"

"Willing."

Spock considered.  "It does have possibilities for offering unique insights into human culture.  However, I am failing to see any reasonable explanations for your intention to—"

"Lesson number one," McCoy told him, "getting _you_ into the spirit of things is very much in the spirit of things."

"This should be interesting to watch," Kirk observed.  "How are you planning to go about this?"

"I don't know.  Is there any use going the spiritual route?" McCoy asked.  "That's where it all goes back to, really.  The angels, the shepherds, the baby in the manger…"

"I am not Christian, Doctor."

"All right, then," McCoy said agreeably.  "We won't make it a religious issue, that could get messy, we'll just stick with the secular Christmas and Santa Claus."

"Santa Claus?" Spock questioned.

"That might be a good place to start," Kirk suggested.

"You think so?"

"Sure."

"Okay, Santa Claus."  McCoy grinned.  "You know, Spock, you'd like old Santa.  He gets along well with pointy-eared folk."

Kirk suppressed laughter while Spock gave them both a very strange look.

"See, it's like this," McCoy went on, "Santa Claus is a jolly fat man in a red suit who lives at the North Pole."

Spock's eyebrow quirked, almost as though of its own volition.  "The North Pole?"

"Of Earth.  He likes the low population density.  So he's got this factory up there, and he works with all these elves."  McCoy grinned mischievously.  "Little men with pointed ears.  And they spend all their time making toys for children."

"A noble endeavor," Spock said noncommittally, ignoring the reference to pointed ears.

"Exactly.  So then on Christmas Eve, they load all the toys into a sleigh.  Santa gets in, and the flying reindeer take him all around the world to deliver a present to every child on Earth…and probably in the colonies too."

Spock did not seem impressed.  "That is entirely impossible.  Disregarding for a moment the concept of 'flying reindeer,' the sheer time involved in getting out of the sleigh, picking out a toy, giving it to a child, getting back in the sleigh and taking off again, it would be impossible to reach even a tiny fraction of the children in the world."

McCoy and Kirk looked at each other.

"We may have picked ourselves an impossible task," McCoy said.

"We just might have."


	2. Mistletoe and Christmas Cookies

Disclaimer: Star Trek still isn't mine.

Chapter Two: Mistletoe and Christmas Cookies

_Kirk and McCoy are in the rec room, continuing to discuss how exactly to get Spock into the spirit.  Spock himself has gone back to the bridge._

McCoy snapped his fingers.  "I know how we'll get Spock in the Christmas spirit!"

"How?" Kirk asked.

"Mistletoe!"

Kirk blinked.  "Mistletoe?"

McCoy nodded.  "Mistletoe.  And Nurse Chapel."

Kirk shook his head.  "No, Bones."

"Yeoman Rand would be better?"

"You're talking about _Spock_."

"He'd prefer a brunette?  Maybe a redhead, there's got to be one somewhere on this ship…"

Kirk waved a hand at him to stop.  "Now wait a minute here.  You've got to consider who you're dealing with.  I mean, sure, it would work on _me_, but with Spock…all that's going to happen is he'll get all embarrassed, and then deny that he's embarrassed, and make a big fuss about strange human traditions and how Vulcans don't have emotions."

McCoy sighed.  "Drop the whole thing, eh?"

Kirk nodded.  "That might be smart."

"Oh well, I guess it _was_ kinda silly."

*  *  *

Their next move was suggested, not by McCoy, not by Kirk, but by Uhura.  She had plans for making Christmas cookies, and had invited quite a few people.  They decided to drag Spock along.

It was a very disorganized but very spirited group down in the galley.  Flour got on just about everything, cookie cutters were tossed around the room, and mountains of dough were being rolled out.  Spock's was the only solemn face in the room.  Glancing over his shoulder, Uhura chanced to notice something.

"Why, Mr. Spock!  You're making square cookies!"

Spock did not seem the see the problem.  "It is the most efficient shape to use, and wastes the least amount of dough."

There was a groan from McCoy's general direction.

"But Mr. Spock, you're supposed to make Christmas shapes," someone pointed out.

"Why, precisely?"

That floored them somewhat.  'Because that's what you _do_' didn't seem likely to sway Spock.

Uhura jumped in with the answer there.  "Because they're aesthetically pleasing."

Spock considered.  "That is reasonable.  Someone pass me the Christmas tree cutter, please."

McCoy gaped at Uhura.  "How did you _do_ that?" he asked in a low voice.

"Do what?"

"Get him to listen to you!"

"Oh."  She shrugged.  "Well, I tried to think like Spock.  And I figured 'aesthetically pleasing' would get me a lot farther than 'pretty.'"


	3. Winter Wonderland

Disclaimer: Nope, Star Trek still isn't mine.

Chapter Three: Winter Wonderland

_December 23rd:_

McCoy bounded onto the bridge.  "Jim!  Do you realize where we are?!"

Kirk glanced up from the reports he had been signing.  McCoy, particularly when he got _that_ look, tended to be more interesting than reports.  "Do I know where we are?  Well, let's see…" He assumed a look of deep concentration.  "Now, don't tell me, I can get this…"  He snapped his fingers.  "The bridge of the _Enterprise_!"

"No!"  McCoy stopped and reviewed.  "Well…_yes_, but…that's not what I meant!"

Kirk nodded.  "I suspected as much.  Are you referring to our being in orbit around Lanthanide IV?"

"Right!  And do you know what's down there?"

"A colony?"

"No!"  McCoy stopped again.  Reviewed again.  "Well…_yes_, but…stop doing that!"

Kirk grinned.  "Sorry.  So what's down there that has you so excited?"

McCoy beamed.  "Snow."

Kirk waited.  Explanations did not seem to be coming.  "And…what exactly is so wonderful about snow?"

"It's two days before Christmas.  We're within beaming distance of snow.  We have some extra time," McCoy said patiently.  "Get it?"

"You want us to beam down and play in the snow."

"I wouldn't have put it like that, but essentially, yes."

Kirk thought about it.  "Actually…that may have some merit.  There's probably lots of crewmembers who wouldn't mind an afternoon off to, I don't know, build snowmen or something…"

"One-hundred and seventeen."

Kirk looked at him.  "You've been spreading the word, haven't you?"

McCoy shrugged innocently.  "You know how many people you can pass between Sickbay and the bridge?"

"One-hundred and seventeen?"

"Just about."

"All right, fine, we're taking the afternoon off to go build snowmen.  If this wasn't Christmas…"

"But it is.  And guess who's coming with us, too."

*  *  *

Two hundred and six crewmembers beamed down.  Among them were Kirk and McCoy.  Also Spock, who had consented to be dragged along.  They located a nice snowy, rural area to beam into.  Upon arrival, the crewmembers scattered, in search of varying snow-type activities.

"Well, now that we're here, what shall we do?" Kirk asked.

"Well…I'd suggest ice skating but I never was very good at that," McCoy admitted.  "And besides, I don't know how Spock could possibly skate from inside that giant coat."

The coat _was_ rather large and bulky.  Or maybe it was just that Spock had two other coats on underneath.

"Why _did_ you wear three coats, Spock?" McCoy asked.  "It's not _that_ cold."

"I am from a desert world, Doctor.  It is very cold.  Please explain to me again _why_ we're here."

"Because that's part of Christmas!  Snow!  You know, 'Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow.'  'I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas.'  'Walking in a Winter Wonderland…'"

"I believe you have made your point," Spock interrupted.  He was unsure how long the Doctor could go on quoting song titles, and he wasn't interested in finding out.  "So what do we do with this snow?"

"Well…we could build a snowman."

So they built a snowman.  It looked pretty much like a snowman.  Big round body, big round head, a few stray hats and scarves finding their way onto it.

Spock eyed it critically.  "It is not very well proportioned."

"It's not supposed to be," McCoy said by way of explanation.

Spock chalked it up as another peculiar human custom that was beyond fathoming.

"You know what?  It needs something," McCoy decided.

Kirk considered.  "Looks okay to me."

"Hmm…"  McCoy grinned.  "I've got it.  Think there's any pinecones lying around under those trees over there?"

"Yeah, probably.  What are you going to do with pinecones?"

"You'll see," McCoy called over his shoulder as he walked towards the trees.  He located a couple of pinecones without any great difficulty, and returned.  Then, he carefully affixed the pinecones to the sides of the snowman's head, pointed ends up.  "There!  A Snow-vulcan!"

Kirk grinned in spite of himself.  "You have a strange sense of humor, Bones."

"It does not look like a Vulcan," Spock observed.

McCoy shrugged.  "Close enough.  Should we build a Snow-klingon now?"

Let's not.  Wouldn't do to offend the Klingon Empire."

"Okay, Jim.  Besides, we really ought to show Spock a few other traditions."

"Such as?" Spock asked.

"Well…"  McCoy shook his head.  "Nope, can't picture _that_ one happening."

"What?" Kirk asked.

"Snow angels."

Kirk shook his head.  "No."

"Okay, I've got it.  So, Spock, there's another pretty prevalent tradition relating to snow," McCoy said.  "The snowball fight."

Kirk had a very bemused expression.  "I think I'll just stand over here and watch this one."

McCoy picked up a handful of snow, made a rough ball of it, and threw it at Spock.  It hit the Vulcan in the shoulder, and most of it slid off.  Spock brushed what was left away, calmly.  McCoy waited.  Spock looked at him quizzically.

"Now what?"

McCoy sighed.  "Now you throw one at me," he said patiently.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you _do_ in a snowball fight!  Throw snowballs at each other!"

"This is recreation?"

"Yes!"

Spock was doubtful.  "It seems like an excellent way to become very cold and very wet in a very short time.  I would think that as a physician you would object to it as being an efficient way to develop hypothermia."

McCoy took a moment to absorb that one.  "Well.  I give up.  Absolutely surrender.  Be a Scrooge, Spock, I'm done."  He turned and started walking away.  "I'm going to see if Yeoman Rand's managed to make decent coffee over at the beam-down site.  Wouldn't want hypothermia."

Spock watched McCoy walking away for a few moments.  After the doctor was a fair distance off, Spock bent down, and scooped up a handful of snow.  He carefully patted it into a perfect sphere, and regarded it dispassionately for a moment.  Then, he threw it.

It hit McCoy in the back of his neck.  "Hey!"

"Perhaps there is some value to this tradition after all," Spock mused.

If Kirk hadn't known better, he would have sworn Spock smiled for just a moment.  It was hard to say though, as he caught only a bare glimpse and then his vision was obscured by wet white stuff.    He brushed snow out of his eyes, blinking.

"Nice aim, Jim," McCoy said, approaching.  "Not quite fair to hit while my back's turned though."

"Aim…?  No, wait, that wasn't me, that was…"  Kirk stopped, half pointing towards Spock.  "I haven't even said it yet, and it already sounds ridiculous," he told the landscape in general.

McCoy was doubtful.  "You're not going to try and tell me _Spock_ threw it."

Kirk shrugged.  "Crazy as it sounds, yes."

Spock was the picture of innocence and Vulcan-calm, hands clasped behind his back.  One eyebrow rose.  "_I_, Captain?"

"Don't look at me like that, you _know_…"  Kirk trailed off.  "Oh what's the use?  Only one way to handle this."  He leaned down and scooped up a double handful of snow.  Half went at McCoy.  The other half hit Spock in the nose.  "I have my honor to consider, you know."

It was three rather wet Starfleet officers who beamed aboard later.


	4. A Little Help From Mr Dickens

Disclaimer: Star Trek is—great shock—not mine.

Chapter Four: A Little Help From Mr. Dickens

December 24th, Christmas Eve

_Kirk chanced to enter the Rec Room, and to find Spock buried deep in an old book._

"What are you reading, Spock?" Kirk asked.

Spock's nose did not raise from the book.  "_A Christmas Carol_, by Charles Dickens."

Kirk was surprised.  "_Really_."

"Yes."

Silence.

"So…what made you decide to read _that_?" Kirk asked the top of his science officer's head.

Spock finally looked up, holding a finger in the book to mark his place.  "I ran the word 'Scrooge' through the computer database, and found two references.  First, the name of a very wealthy duck, uncle to Donald Duck, a popular 'comic book' character of the 1900s.  Second, the principle figure of this book.  I borrowed it from someone with the intention of giving it a cursory glance, and found it quite intriguing.  Fanciful and illogical, but intriguing."

McCoy wandered in then, and walked over.  "So, anything exciting happening?"

"Spock's reading _A Christmas Carol_," Kirk told him.

McCoy's eyebrows shot up.  "_Really_."

"That was my reaction."

"I do not see why everyone finds this so surprising," Spock observed.  "You wanted me to locate the Christmas spirit.  Dickens seems to have it."

"Does that mean you found it?" McCoy asked, somewhat doubtfully.

"I think so," Spock said.  He turned back to the first few pages, turned one or two over, and located the passage he was looking for.  "'There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say,' returned the nephew. 'Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round—apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that—as a good time: a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it _has_ done me good, and _will_ do me good; and I say, God bless it!'  Unless I am greatly mistaken, _that_ is the Christmas spirit."

McCoy's jaw had dropped.  Kirk was grinning.

"I still fail to see logic in Christmas," Spock mused, "but there does seem to be a certain value all the same."

McCoy shook his head.  "I never thought I'd see the day."

Spock saw his opening.  And took it.  "Had you been able to properly explain your own traditions, you could have 'seen the day' two days ago, and avoided a great deal of mishap."

McCoy rose to the challenge.  "Well if _you_ weren't so close-minded and made _half_ an effort to enter into the spirit of things…"

"Had you explained precisely what the spirit of things _was_—"

"Well _this_ is really in the spirit of Christmas!" Kirk said loudly.

Spock and McCoy looked at each other.

"I am not, of course, entirely clear on your customs, but I believe the appropriate course of action at this juncture would be to wish you a Merry Christmas, Doctor."

McCoy smiled in spite of himself.  "Merry Christmas, Spock."

Happy Holidays, everybody!


End file.
